


While My World Sleeps

by WldCatSprStr_14



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-14
Updated: 2011-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:33:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WldCatSprStr_14/pseuds/WldCatSprStr_14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur watches Merlin sleep and considers a change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While My World Sleeps

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. Written for Day 13 of [](http://adventchallenge.livejournal.com/profile)[**adventchallenge**](http://adventchallenge.livejournal.com/). Sequel to [Warm Wine and Snowfall](http://archiveofourown.org/works/292975). ****

When Arthur wakes up two hours later from his wine-induced sleep, Merlin is sitting in a chair at his bedside, fast asleep. Blinking to bring the room into focus, Arthur rolls over onto his side to consider Merlin’s sleeping form.

Having Merlin as his manservant means that Arthur often gets the opportunity to admire Merlin while he sleeps and he makes the most of each moment every time. They’re his chance to try to figure Merlin out, to see what Merlin never lets him see when he’s awake. Seeing Merlin while he is asleep is like seeing a completely different person. While the waking Merlin seems to have few troubles, always ready with a cheeky remark and a smile, the picture that Arthur sees in Merlin’s sleeping face tells a different story, a story that Arthur has been patiently waiting for weeks for Merlin to tell. Quietly shifting closer to the edge of the bed, Arthur lets his eyes roam over Merlin’s face.

Arthur knows that Merlin shouldn’t be any more tired than he himself is every night. Unless he’s attending to chores that Arthur himself has personally assigned, Merlin is perpetually at his side and Arthur always dismisses Merlin when he turns in for the night. Regardless of how much Merlin complains about Arthur giving him too much work, Arthur knows that Merlin manages them just fine. Arthur used to wonder _how_ Merlin did it but now he supposes that the magic that Merlin still hasn’t told him about is surely of assistance to him in that regard.

Arthur knows what physically exhaustion looks like. He’s seen it in himself and he’s seen it in his men. He knows that bone-deep weariness that comes from working too hard and sleeping too little. Merlin’s body isn’t tired. And yet the dark circles under Merlin’s eyes stand out in sharp relief against his pale skin, no bright smile there to mask them. Instead of the slack relaxed look of someone finally at rest, Merlin’s forehead is perpetually furrowed and lately he never seems to be sleeping deeply. He’s beginning to look more and more like Morgana did before she was taken by Morgause, haunted, and Arthur can’t help wondering if there is something telling in that.

 _Share it with me. Why don’t you ever say?_

The temptation to say something, _anything_ , wears on Arthur every day. The words are on his tongue every time his father says something about the “evils of sorcery” and he has to watch the color drain from Merlin’s face like water through a sieve, but they stick there whenever he lets himself wonder about just _why_ Merlin hasn’t said anything yet. That Merlin doesn’t trust him enough to share this secret is a blow to Arthur’s pride every time he lets himself think about it but what’s even more damaging is the realization that he hasn’t really given Merlin a reason to trust him.

He stands there and nods whenever Uther rails against magic, never speaking up or daring to disagree even when he suspects that his father is wrong, all for the chance to have Uther look at him and be pleased. He goes out and leads the hunt for sorcerers on the King’s orders. He’ll go on and on about corruption and evil if he thinks it will make Uther proud of him.

And he does it all while Merlin stands there and suffers and pretends that it doesn’t tear him up inside every time Arthur says things that he may as well be saying about Merlin, that he _is_ saying about Merlin.

 _And yet I wonder why you never say. Why would you?_

Arthur watches Merlin fidget in his sleep, slurring out Arthur’s name. He’s used to hearing it by now. The first time it happened they’d been out on a hunting trip and Arthur had startled so badly that he’d dropped the stick he’d been using to stoke the fire, causing Merlin to wake with a jerk. Arthur had mentioned it then but let it go after Merlin’s vehement denial and the awkwardness that followed. It wasn’t particularly important _what_ Merlin was thinking about him; it only mattered that Merlin always seems to be thinking of him.

Easing over onto his back, Arthur stares up at the canopy above his bed.

Arthur knows that he’s not perfect, that he will probably _never_ be perfect, but he also knows that Merlin would never ask him to be perfect. All he has to be is good enough.

Casting a glance at Merlin’s sleeping form, Arthur silently makes a promise. It’s winter now. The whole world is going to sleep, getting ready for the vibrant change that will come with spring, and Arthur intends to put his old self to sleep as well. He’ll change too and he’ll show Merlin that he’s not his father, that he can be trusted. That he’s good enough.

Good enough for Merlin’s trust, good enough for a _real_ friendship, one that Merlin doesn’t feel he has to lie to maintain. Good enough to be there for Merlin so that he doesn’t have to bear his burden alone, especially when Merlin has helped Arthur bear every difficult burden he’s been faced with since the day he stumbled into Camelot and into Arthur’s life.

 _Good enough for you to love._

~FIN~


End file.
